


The Lion and the Crow

by Faithhopefelony



Series: The Lion and the Crow [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:37:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faithhopefelony/pseuds/Faithhopefelony
Summary: Following the events of 1926 in New York, Credence Barebone flees to Paris to find shelter and hopefully a better life. What he doesn't expect to find, is that the mark on his chest that he has had since birth, is actually the mark of his soulmate's patronus. Credence has had a dark childhood, and one powerful witch is determined to find out just how dark, based on brief visions she gets when in contact with him. They learn (maybe not so) quickly what they mean to each other, and together are determined to escape their own separate evils; together.Soul mates au. Everything from the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them franchise is not mine.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first time writing fanfic (though not my first time writing). I saw the movie the other day and just LOVED the characters, and just had so much inspiration to write about them. I plan on writing more with different types of pairings (specifically Credence/Graves, and maybe more Graves/Newt), but the other night I just had a lot of inspiration with a character that I thought of. I know I can never get enough of a strong female lead, so if this is also you, here you go!
> 
> I hope you like it, and feel free to leave comments!! I'd love to hear your feedback!!
> 
> P. S. Goes without saying, but anything and everything to do with (QUEEN) J. K. Rowling's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them franchise I do not own.

April 17th - 1928 - Paris

Scurrying down the street she bows her head, watching her feet scuffing the worn grey cement. Her curly hair cascades around her blank face, the red in it shining in the late afternoon light. Such a warm glow. Her green eyes glaze over as she walks along, present in her journey down the street, but completely indulged in her own thoughts. Bumping into those that pass she pays no mind making her way down the sidewalk, avoiding any major collisions, and keeping her eyes out of sight. Avoid eye contact. Avoid interaction. Avoid incident. 

It becomes more difficult to navigate the streets with every passing day. Traffic becomes heavier with more and more cars on the road, but that hasn't lessened the sidewalk population. It only moves the masses from the street and the sidewalk, to entirely on the sidewalk. She has searched for alternatives, but travelling with the masses is the most concealable location for her. Unfortunately, apparating and riding on a broom aren’t very common among muggles. So, she begrudgingly sticks to the sidewalks and the subways. Messy, but reliable.

The city is different from the other places she has temporarily settled into. It isn’t quite as bustly or noisy as London or New York who simultaneously alienate foreigners and welcome natives, but it has a sort of spirit that just won’t let you go. She can’t figure if it is from the city itself, or something in it that is drawing her in, but she concludes that it must be the constant aroma of freshly baked bread that permeates the air. The aroma is especially poignant when passing in front of the esteemed Opera House, which in her time exploring she hasn’t found the right opportunity to visit. Music has always been a love of hers, so she’d be ecstatic at the opportunity, but she just doesn’t find the rationale in paying to see a show by herself in a city not completely familiar with her. It’s simply not worth the hassle. And definitely not worth the money. 

Nevertheless, the city entices her more than any before, and from the second she stepped foot in it she was engulfed in a feeling of warmth. This might be the only place she’ll miss, out of the world's she’s seen. Thinking of this sends creases into her otherwise smooth forehead, and she spends her walks trying to find what it is that entices her so much about the place, but in all the time she has spent on these streets, she simply can’t find it. 

As she delves deeper into her thoughts, she becomes less aware of her surroundings, and one man nearly knocks her over. She wavers as she steps sideways, avoiding falling all together. It seems to be from the man’s size and stature, but what really caught her off guard was the vision she was thrown into with the contact between her rigid shoulder and his bulkier arm. 

A musky smell of incense fills her nose as she finds herself above a cowering figure. Pale and gaunt, the look of terror in the boy’s eyes shakes her as glistening sweat pours down his forehead. Black hair swoops over his eyes, unceremoniously blocking her from making complete eye contact with him, and most likely being entranced in the swirling emotions of his darkly hued eyes. His jaw juts out farther than it should, a sign of malnutrition, which intensifies as his sickly skin pulls tightly around it in his look of anguish. 

Light pinks, blues and greens illuminate his ghostly face, falling from tinted moonlight and through stained glass, depicting angels swooping over shepherds in a field. They offer peace, protection, and love in outstretched arms that seem to reach just far enough to skim the edge of the window, the edge of reality, but not enough to help those in the actual world suffering. These colors faintly paint the boy’s face, giving a haunting look to the white stretch of his skin, pulled tightly over his bones like a painter’s canvas. 

When her eyes leave his taut face and travel the rest of him, she finds two hands, bloodied and scarred, oozing with blood. He’s furiously trembling, silently weeping as he holds them up, painfully taking in each lash from the belt held by the figure towering over him, beside her. He keeps his arms up, slightly recoiling after each blow, but always returning to the same position ready to take whatever else he must. His whimpers echo throughout the cavernous chapel, filling its empty chambers with small cries following the sharp thwack of leather hitting skin. 

Suddenly she shivers, as a chill settles in around her that seems to accompany the empty building. For a moment, her eyes scan the small space, drifting over cobwebbed pews to pamphlets scattered around aimlessly. Everything seems to be coated in a thin layer of dust, giving the space a monochromatic, grey look. It all blends into itself, and she couldn’t think of ever being confined to such a bleak environment. If the space were smaller, she would think she were lying with the men and women in the graveyard just outside.

Quickly, her eyes dart back to the only source of vibrant color to be found; the red soaking the boys hands. The belt comes crashing down blow after blow, each hit harder than the last; and in only an instant the boy, his hands, and the entire eerie chapel are gone, and she is back on the cement now in a cold sweat, and feeling a stinging wetness in the palms of her hands. 

She stops walking. Never has a vision this intense ransacked her. Quickly she removes and flicks her wand, momentarily freezing everyone and everything around her, except herself and the man. Silently, she turns to face him, watching carefully as it takes him a moment to realize that he is the only one moving around him. When he turns completely around and their eyes meet, he bends and reaches into his pocket, but before he can take anything out, she hits him with a paralyzing spell, forcing him to straighten and walk towards her. 

As he draws nearer, he grows taller than she remembered from moments ago, and the ink wings on her back start to burn. Sprawled across nearly her entire back are a pair of dark black wings, from an indistinguishable bird. They have been present since her birth, and represent the patronus of her soulmate; which is why its intensity at the moment is confusing. It must be from the adrenaline pumping through her as the dark man approaches, scowling menacingly down at her. He cannot be her soulmate. He can’t be. Never before has she been this intensely affected by her mark, but she ignores the sensations as she looks up into the dark eyes above her. 

She begins to reach up, ready to touch his cold cheek and learn the rest of his past, but suddenly stops. She can’t. Maybe it’s the desperate look in his eyes cleverly masked by anger, but maybe it’s her damn marked wings that flinch at every inch closer she draws to him. Either way, she pulls her hand down, freeing him from her hold as she replaces her wand by her side. 

Just before she allows the sidewalks to once again become busy and lively, she takes his arm. Stepping onto the tips of her toes to reach his ear, which normally resides just above her head height, she whispers something faintly but authoritatively. 

“Join me for a bite to eat, won’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Just as another reminder: I do not own anything to do with the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them franchise, though some characters and present plot line is mine. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! 
> 
> <3


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